


all the ghosts in the trees, and the love of a dog

by candlemaker



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe RPF
Genre: Banana bread based disasters, Brief dog phobia, Depression, Established Relationship, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Seb and Dodger are mortal enemies until they aren't, Sexual Frustration
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-25
Updated: 2020-08-25
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:42:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26106655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/candlemaker/pseuds/candlemaker
Summary: Sebastian's relationship with Chris had come naturally and easily, like the man filled a space inside of him that he had never realised was hollow. His relationship with Dodger, however... that's going to take a little more work.orDodger is Sebastian's arch nemesis, until he isn't.
Relationships: Chris Evans/Sebastian Stan
Comments: 8
Kudos: 129





	all the ghosts in the trees, and the love of a dog

**Author's Note:**

> My very first Evanstan offering, which barely contains Chris, weirdly. Title from You're Going Back by The Tallest Man on Earth. This was supposed to be a lighthearted 5 +1 things fic, but both the lighthearted and 5+1 part got a little derailed by an increasingly persistent metaphor.

Sebastian is not scared of the dog.

He has survived an oppressive dictatorship, and a bloody revolution. He has held his own on stage and screen with acting titans and Hollywood legends. He has dealt with stalkers and harassment and a complete lack of privacy for years. He has fled his home and started from scratch in a new country where he doesn’t even speak the language – not once, but _twice_.

He’s not scared of a god damn puppy.

And yet…

It’s the way, when Dodger isn’t bouncing off the walls and diving over the couch with unrestrained energy, he gets so _still._

Sitting. Staring. Wide eyes fixed on Sebastian and tail wagging mindlessly behind him like a cobra poised to strike. Jaw agape and tongue flopping uselessly as he pants rhythmically. Drooling a little.

It’s ominous.

Sebastian lifts his feet off the floor and onto the couch where he has tucked himself into the corner between the backrest and the arm, keeping Dodger in his line of sight at all times. Crossing his legs under himself to protect his vulnerable toes from a possible assault, he stares back. The chip that is halfway between the bag and his mouth hangs limply in his grip.

It’s been like this since Chris ducked out to go pick up their take out order from the Chinese restaurant down the street, leaving his boyfriend and his dog alone together for the first time since their relationship started. He clearly hadn’t thought anything of it; so used to the presence of Sebastian and Dodger separately that he had forgotten they weren’t used to _each other_. Their relationship has blossomed on set, but while they were joined at the hip, Dodger has been 1000 miles away in the care of Chris’ sister in Massachusetts. When filming had finished, Chris had finally returned to his beloved dog – just as Sebastian had been whisked away to Europe to work on a new movie. Now, with Seb staying at Chris’ place until their new projects start shooting, both of Chris’ boys are in the same place for the first time.

It clearly delights Chris to have his whole little family under one roof.

It clearly _does not_ delight Sebastian.

“Be good!” Chris had called as he flew through the front door and out into the street, and embarrassingly, Seb still isn’t sure which one of them he had been talking to.

Ten minutes have passed since his boyfriend left to hunter-gather them Chinese food, and the remaining souls left in the house are at an impasse.

It’s a standoff. Sebastian, Dodger, and the chip that hangs between them like a grenade with the pin pulled. When he raises his hand just a little, bringing the chip towards his open mouth, Dodger takes a step towards him.

It’s more of a hop than a step, really, his fluffy front paws lifting off the floor and landing a little closer to Sebastian than he would like, and it would be cute - if it weren’t for the claws attached to said paws, and the sharp canines protruding from Dodger’s open mouth. Sebastian knows, deep down, that Dodger’s unblinking gaze and hungry mouth are directed at the chip, not him, but he can’t help but feel a little like prey in the presence of a predator.

Why couldn’t Chris have had a turtle, or rabbit, or a guinea pig? Seb had a cat, growing up. A lazy, aloof ball of fluff that rarely bothered to acknowledge his existence. Cats are simple, predictable, independent. When they want your attention, they headbutt you until you acquiesce to their demand for a scratch behind the ears. When they want you to leave them alone, they’re not shy about delivering a swipe to whatever part of your bare skin they can reach. The rules are simple and easy to learn.

Dogs are an unknown quantity.

It’s not that he thinks Dodger will bite him. It’s that he can’t know that he won’t. He’s seen the pup tear apart toys the size of a small child, barrel across the room with frightening bursts of speed, and display almost scary signs of intelligence when after a treat. He knows, has heard a thousand times from Chris, that Dodger is a good boy with a hard past, who wouldn’t hurt a fly and just needs wants to be held and loved on – a description that is eerily similar to the way Chris would describe his boyfriend.

But no matter what Chris tells him, it’s hard to convince his body to get on board and stop flinching whenever the dog comes too close. Dodger is deceptively big and strong, has no concept of personal space, and flips between moods with more frequency than Sebastian himself did when he first quit smoking. The base survival instincts that have served him well so far are telling him to stay far, far away from the open jaw and hungry eyes that are firmly fixed on him and the potato chip being held hostage between them. And as much as he knows he’s being silly, he can’t clamp down on the nervous energy that has been coursing through him ever since the buffer between him and the dog left in search of egg fried rice.

Dodger slowly lowers his head and shoulders to the ground while his back end remains raised, and Seb has seen enough David Attenborough documentary clips of lions about to pounce on unsuspecting zebras to know where this is going.

His tail flicks twice. Once to the left, once to the right. Seb swallows audibly, tightening his grip on the chip that is probably stale by now until the edges start to crack between his fingers, and Dodger drags one front paw along the ground in front of him, as if revving an engine or gearing up for an attack. Sebastian looks at the chip, and then the dog, and then the chip.

Out of time, out of options.

Seb makes his choice – and his sacrifice. He throws the chip like one of Bucky’s knives, flicking it over and behind Dodger and using the distraction to flee from the room with an uncharacteristic turn of speed. He pretends the happy little yelp Dodger lets out and the sound of his jaws clamping down on the chip don’t make him flinch. He tells himself, quite plainly, that he is not hiding in the bathroom to escape his boyfriend’s puppy. He just had to pee. And if he stays in there until he hears the front door click and smells the familiar aroma of chow mein, then that’s no one else’s business but his.

* * *

Sebastian and Dodger have come to an uneasy truce by the time Chris leaves them alone again.

Chris is a perceptive man, and although they haven’t explicitly discussed it, Seb knows that he has noticed how wary his boyfriend and dog are of each other. And Seb knows, from Chris’ smiles that don’t quite reach his eyes, that the tension between his boys upsets him.

Sebastian would _never_ put Chris in a situation where he had to choose between his lover and his pet – and not just because he’s not quite sure who Chris would choose. So he tries to get his shit together and get over what he knows is a completely irrational fear – or at least attempt to put his acting skills to work and cover up his nervousness.

For the most part, Seb’s attempt at exposure therapy is successful. He’s stopped flinching whenever Dodger moves or barks, and he’s able to let Dodger sniff around him and pad about the room without tracking the dog’s every movement like a frightened deer. He even manages to pet Dodger on occasions when he’s feeling particularly charitable, or he just wants to make Chris smile. Seb’s awkward and emotionally distant pats on the head are not the full-body hugs and slobbering kisses that Chris and Dodger share, but they’re something, and Dodger tolerates them with good humour. More importantly, Chris’ heart eyes make an appearance every time he voluntarily initiates contact with Dodger, and when Seb allows the pup to rest his head in his lap during a movie night, Chris looks like he might cry with joy.

Now, they’re alone once again. Chris had headed off into the city a few hours ago to do an interview, preferring to meet journalists in a café than host them in his own home when he’s also hosting a boyfriend he’s trying to keep under wraps.

At a loss and still feeling out of place in a house that isn’t his own, Seb wanders the halls of the large farmhouse aimlessly until the bananas slowly browning in Chris’ fruit bowl provide him with the inspiration he needs. He’s not much of a chef, and certainly not a baker, but banana bread is simple and easy – and one of Chris’ favourites. How could he possibly go wrong with banana bread?

As he moves about the kitchen, peeling bananas and discarding the browning skins, he’s distinctly aware of Dodger perched by the dishwasher, watching Seb’s every movement like a hawk. Having his unprotected back to the animal still ignites some primal fear in him, an instinct honed in his Palaeolithic ancestors, but he shakes off the feeling, focussing on chopping the bananas and measuring out the flour and sugar instead.

For the most part, he and Dodger are abiding by the unspoken agreement they have been living by since Sebastian practically moved in; you stay out of my way, and I’ll stay out of yours.

That is, until Dodger reaches one paw up to his chopping board of banana slices and sends them tumbling off the counter to the floor in a move that looks strangely deliberate. Slices of banana land across the kitchen floor, and before Sebastian can even react, Dodger has his face pressed to the tiles, consuming as many pieces of fruit as he can get his mouth on.

“Asshole!” Seb mutters under his breath, as he watches the main component of his recipe disappear to the cavernous pit that is Dodger’s appetite. He manages to grab the chopping board, which has miraculously landed the right way up with a handful of slices still clinging onto it, mere seconds before Dodger can gobble those up, too.

He knows it’s his own fault for leaving food unguarded within reach of an animal, but he can’t help but feel frustrated at Dodger’s insatiable need to consume. There’s barely enough fruit left for a banana muffin, let alone a whole loaf.

He’s still grumbling to himself as he sticks the pathetic remains of his bananas into the blender, intent on seeing this banana bread through by sheer stubbornness alone. He’s still grumbling when, less than five minutes later, Dodger suddenly lists to the side and falls heavily onto the kitchen floor as if the strings keeping him up had been cut.

“Oh, it’s hard huh?” Seb asks him bitterly, pouring the mashed bananas into the mixing bowl with the rest of his ingredients as he watches Dodger out of the corner of his eye, “It’s hard work being a menace, huh? Tiring?”

Unsurprisingly, there’s no response. Instead, Dodger’s eyes flutter closed and he remains completely still as Seb puts his arms to work stirring the viscous mixture.

“Look, we’re meant to be in a truce,” Seb tells Dodger when the mixture is finally ready, feeling a little bad at having snapped at the dog for fulfilling his basic animal desire to eat everything in sight, “I’m sorry I called you an asshole, buddy. Here, I’m done mixing. You can lick the spoon.”

He waggles the wooden spoon temptingly in Dodger’s direction, expecting the dog to shoot up and grab the whole damn thing out of his hand. It’s concerning, then, when Dodger remains on the ground, limp like a rag doll.

Frowning, Seb takes a few steps towards him and leans forward, waving the spoon close enough to Dodger’s snout that he _must_ be able to smell it.

“Dodger, come on,” He tries, then throws the spoon into the sink with a defeated sigh when the dog shows no interest and begins to worry him, “You’re gonna ignore my apology spoon, really?”

Sinking to his knees beside Dodger, Sebastian places a hand gently on the dog’s side to feel his chest rising and falling. He’s definitely breathing, but the dog doesn’t so much as twitch at his touch, let alone react to his words, and it sends Sebastian spirally into panic almost immediately.

Has Dodger always breathed like that, or is it there a slight wheeze to it now? Has his chest always compacted so shallowly when he inhales? Is he normally so unnaturally still, even in sleep?

“Dodger!” He tries again with a mildly hysterical lilt to his voice, affecting the baby-talk voice that Chris uses to talk to his pet when he thinks Sebastian can’t hear him. Still, there’s no response.

Shit. _Fuck._ The bananas – Seb has never seen Chris feed Dodger fruit. He rarely lets him eat human food at all. 

Chris should never have left him alone with Dodger. He doesn’t know the first thing about dogs and what they can and can’t eat. He can’t even keep his house plants alive, and they’re cacti. You don’t even have to water them.

“Oh god. Alexa – oh, we don’t have an Alexa, um, Siri!” Seb cries, panic overtaking his higher brain functions as he fumbles for his phone in his too-tight jeans, cursing himself for prioritising how his ass looks over access to his pockets, “Siri, Siri, can dogs eat bananas?”

“Results for: do frogs need pyjamas,” The robotic voice responds, and he growls in frustration at the limitations of technology.

“Wha- no, Siri! Siri, Can. Dogs. Eat. Bananas?” He tries again, attempting to enunciate clearly through his increasing desperation and getting flashbacks to trying to make himself understood through a thick accent and limited English when he first moved to the States.

Beneath the hand that is gently resting on Dodger’s torso, the pup lets out a whine that has Sebastian’s heart dropping to his knees in pure fear, as Siri takes what feels like an age to return an answer.

“Results for: can dogs eat bananas.” She finally announces, just as Sebastian has started to punish himself by imagining Chris’ face when he returns – to find his boyfriend has murdered his beloved puppy, “Yes, dogs can eat bananas. In moderation, bananas are a great low-calorie treat for dogs. They're high in potassium, vitamins-“

“Oh thank god,” Sebastian breathes out, cutting off Siri’s list of the nutritional value of bananas and sinking back on his heels until his spine hits the cabinets and he’s sitting on his ass.

As if realising that he’s been busted, Dodger sits up suddenly from where he lay prone at Sebastian’s feet. With a turn of speed that confirms he’s in good health, he runs a happy little lap around the kitchen, tail wagging furiously as if nothing had happened. Seb can only stare at him with his jaw hanging open dumbly.

“Are you serious?” Sebastian demands, fixing Dodger with the hardest glare he can manage as his heart returns to his chest. The dog just tilts his head to the side, putting on his most innocent puppy dog eyes and wagging his tail with happiness, “I thought I killed you!”

Dodger only blinks up at him sweetly, then pads off to play with his favourite plush lion in the living room, leaving Sebastian sitting on the kitchen tiles and still shaking from the adrenaline of thinking he had _killed his boyfriend’s dog._

If he didn’t know any better, he’d say this dog was messing with him.

* * *

Bananagate notwithstanding, Seb and Dodger have been getting along pretty well. There’s still an undercurrent of tension and awkwardness to their interactions, but there’s a certain peace between them now, one that clearly makes Chris happier than he can express. That’s why, when Seb gets up a little earlier than usual and no amount of poking and tickling can convince Chris to leave their warm, comfy bed before noon, Seb doesn’t think too hard about grabbing the leash they keep by the door and taking Dodger on his first solo walk.

It goes better than expected. All of the terrible scenarios he had been envisaging as he locked the front door and hooked the leash onto Dodger’s collar fail to materialise. The dog is deceptively strong, and Seb stumbles down Chris’ path until he gets his feet planted more firmly under him, but at no point does Dodger manage to get off the leash and run into traffic, or drag Sebastian into a lake, or try and fight an even bigger, scarier dog.

It’s actually relatively peaceful, walking Dodger in laps around the park near Chris’ house in the crisp autumn breeze. If he’s being honest, he’s been in a slump recently, and the fresh air and brisk walk press pause on the dark thoughts and anxieties running an endless loop in his head.

Dodger stops occasionally to play in the piles of orange leaves that line the path, before he decides they don’t have a satisfying enough _crunch_ for him to waste his time with and allows Sebastian to move him along. Remarkably, Dodger doesn’t try to drag him into a single mud puddle, or eat any of the sharp-looking pieces of litter they pass, and he even leaves the small pigeon family he had been terrorising alone when Seb calls his name sharply. It’s going so well that Sebastian feels almost on edge.

Paranoid as he is, it doesn’t take him long to notice the young woman attempting to inconspicuously tail him. He did make an effort to go incognito today, hat pushed low and sunglasses on, but it seems he’s been spotted. At least she doesn’t seem to be taking pictures on the sly – getting pictured walking Chris Evans’ dog, while wearing Chris Evans’ sweater no less, may invite some questions that they aren’t really ready to answer publically yet. Deciding that slowing down and allowing her to approach may be a better choice than taking off and risking her taking some creepshots, he does exactly that, as subtlety as possible.

Once he’s slowed to almost a complete stop, she hesitates for long enough that he thinks his ego may have gotten the better of him – perhaps she doesn’t recognise him at all, and her staring and following him was pure coincidence. Eventually, however, she seems to win whatever internal battle she was waging with herself and hesitantly shuffles towards him, visibly nervous. 

“Oh my god,” The girl breathes as she comes closer, wide-eyed and star-struck, “I’m so sorry to bother you, really, but – could I please get a picture?”

She’s practically trembling with excitement, and although he’s never coveted fame or the celebrity lifestyle, encounters like this always make him preen a little with pride. He probably shouldn’t, what with Dodger being there, but if she takes a selfie and angles the camera at their faces, the dog won’t be in shot. Throwing caution to the wind, he takes pity on her and gives his permission, blushing slightly at her palpable excitement.

“I’m the biggest Captain America fan,” She tells him as she fumbles for her phone and opens the camera with a flick of her thumb, “You have no idea.”

He just smiles, removing his sunglasses and tipping his hat back for the picture as she flips the camera to selfie mode.

But to his confusion, instead of moving to stand beside him and wrapping an arm around him, the woman moves _past_ him, barely sparing him a glance.

When she lowers herself into a squat and lifts a hand to Dodger’s collar, his stomach sinks with embarrassment and his knuckles tighten on the handle of the leash.

“I couldn’t believe it when I saw him!” She tells Seb absentmindedly, pressing her cheek against Dodger’s so their faces are side by side and beaming as she snaps selfie after selfie with the pup, “I thought ‘that dog looks _exactly_ like Chris Evans dog’. But no way, right? And then I heard you calling his name!"

Sebastian can only stare at her, mouth agape as humiliation floods his cheeks red.

“Oh my god, he’s so precious! I can’t believe you get to walk him. Are you from a dog walking agency, or – oh my god, are you Chris’ assistant?” She asks him, barely even looking at him in favour of loving on Dodger, who is practically vibrating with the excitement of receiving so much attention.

“An agency,” He chokes out after an awkwardly long silence, deciding it is the option that will invite the least questions and get this interaction over with quicker. She deflates a little, clearly hoping she had found someone in Chris’ inner circle whose brains she could pick, but her smile comes back full force when Dodger excitedly licks at her face, tailing wagging a mile a minute.

“I’m sorry – I’m kind of have to get going, if you, um, got everything you needed…“ Sebastian tells her after a few more minutes of petting where she makes no move to get up and leave his boyfriend’s dog alone. Snapping back to reality, she takes one final selfie with Dodger before pushing herself back to her feet, thanking him once again with no recognition in her eyes whatsoever, and giving Dodger one last, wistful look before disappearing into the park. Dodger watches her go then settles, tail still wagging, at Sebastian’s feet and looking up at him expectantly.

Maybe he’s imagining things, but if Seb didn’t know better he’d say the dog looks _smug._

* * *

A few months into his extended vacation at Chris’ place, and he and Dodger are… basically friends. The fear and tension of their initial meeting is almost entirely gone, replaced by a comfortable companionship, even when Chris isn’t home and they are left to their own devices.

There’s just one, tiny area where they still clash. Or rather, one 6ft, broad-shouldered, heavily-muscled area.

It’s not that he’s jealous of the dog. That would be totally insane. He knows there is room for two men in Chris’ life – as long as one is a dog – and he knows that Chris loves them both dearly.

But sometimes… okay. If he’s being honest, sometimes he _is_ jealous of the dog.

Every word of praise heaped on Dodger is a sweet word that isn’t being directed at _him_ , damn it! Every time Dodger curls into Chris’ side on the couch or steals the best seat in the house (Chris’ lap), Sebastian feels a pang of frustration running through him, that only worsens when no amount of coaxing can get Dodger to go play in the garden and leave him alone with his boyfriend. He knows it’s silly, and unfair to both Chris and Dodger, but sometimes it feels like he’ll never have Chris’ undivided attention when the furry menace is in the room, fixing Chris with a look that even Seb’s best puppy dog eyes can’t match. But the real source of frustration is not the way Chris spends more time doting on Dodger than Sebastian, or the way Seb is forced to squeeze into the corner of the couch while Dodger lays sprawled out like he owns the place, monopolising the whole sofa.

It’s the impact that Dodger is having on their sex life. Or rather, their completely non-existent sex life.

It’s been a week – an entire _week_ – since Chris had his hands on him, and it seems like whenever one of them tries to initiate something, Dodger rears his adorable head like a terrible omen.

When Chris practically pounces on him the second he comes home, dragging him towards their king-sized bed, Dodger is already wrapped up in their blankets, fast asleep, and Chris doesn’t have the heart to wake him and kick him out. When Sebastian suggests they christen the new coffee table in the living room, Dodger comes trotting over with his leash in his mouth, demanding to be walked, and Chris caves immediately. When Chris is finally free of meetings and interviews after an incredibly busy week, Sebastian is so tired from chasing Dodger around the dog park all afternoon that he’s out like a light at 8pm. And, like clockwork, the morning quickie he’d been dreaming of gets interrupted by Dodger pawing his way into their room and shoving his body in the space between Chris and Sebastian’s wandering hands. These days, Sebastian feels like a new parent finally facing the effect a newborn screaming baby in the next room has on their sex life – constant disruption to the point of celibacy. It’s ridiculous, but the longer this goes on, the more his anxieties and insecurities get the better of him – he feels unwanted, unattractive and neglected, and he needs confirmation that Chris still _wants_ him.

Finally, after the longest week of his life, when he has begun to seriously consider becoming a monk since he’s already living the celibate lifestyle, Sebastian makes his move.

Dodger is curled up in the corner of the living room, behind the couch where he can’t see them, and fast asleep despite the volume and frequency of the explosions in the shitty action movie they’re watching. It seems safe enough to slip a hand down to massage Chris’ thigh with barely concealed desperation in the circumstances. When Chris notices his wandering fingers, he smiles sweetly without drawing his eyes away from the television, and reaches over to grab Sebastian’s hand, intertwining their fingers in a chaste gesture.

It’s painfully sweet, and sends a rush of affection coursing through him – but it’s not exactly what he wants right now. In a move that couldn’t possibly be misinterpreted, Sebastian lifts their joined hands and places them on his _own_ thigh, squeezing down on the thick muscle in a way that he knows gets Chris hot, dangerously close to the growing bulge in his jeans.

That gets Chris' attention, and this time, they seem to be on the same page.

“You want something, huh?” His boyfriend murmurs, looking Sebastian up and down with hunger in his gaze and a predatory glint in his eye. In response, Sebastian pulls out all the stops, biting his plump bottom lip and nodding while looking up at Chris from underneath his fluttering lashes, in a move specifically designed to short circuit Chris’ brain. It works beautifully, like always, and Chris sucks in a shaky breath as his hand tightens almost painfully on Sebastian’s thigh.

“Give me a minute, okay baby?” Chris tells him, a little flustered, before standing up to stack the take out boxes that are strewn across the table and couch, and disappearing to the kitchen to throw them out. It seems that Sebastian’s suggestion they christen the new coffee table is finally about to become a reality.

In the minutes that Chris is gone, Sebastian sits squirming with anticipation as he eagerly awaits his boyfriend’s return. His seduction mission is going well – too well, in fact – so he isn’t even surprised when a brown and white shape suddenly launches itself over the arm of the couch to settle in Chris’ empty seat.

Disappointed and sexually frustrated, sure, but not surprised. This is his life now, apparently.

He’s grown to like Dodger, but being this _close_ to getting railed on an antique coffee table by a veritable Greek god only to have it ripped away is enough to give anyone some uncharitable thoughts.

As tense silence descends, Seb and Dodger stare at each other across the couch in a standoff of wills, the agitation between them bubbling back up after a relatively peaceful few weeks. Sebastian narrows his eyes, and though he might be imagining it, he could swear that Dodger narrows his own right back.

“Don’t blow this for me,” Sebastian hisses, keeping his voice low so Chris can’t hear him from the kitchen and aggressively pointing a finger in the dog’s direction, “Just let me have this. Can’t you go play outside?”

There’s a tense moment where neither of them moves. Then, for the first time and to Sebastian’s genuine surprise, Dodger actually seems to listen to him. Hopping off the couch, he slinks away with his tail between his legs, disappearing into the next room just in time for Chris’ return. The sad look on Dodger’s little face almost makes Sebastian feel bad – but he’s about to feel very, very good, so just this once he can forgive himself.

And then it’s just the two of them. Chris returns to his seat on the couch, oblivious to Seb and Dodger’s disagreement, and reaches for his boyfriend like a starving man. Sebastian takes great pleasure in finally being able to climb into Chris’ ample lap, throwing his thick thighs onto either side of Chris’ hips and bringing their lips together in a lazy kiss.

“My good boy,” Chris murmurs as his hands settle on Sebastian’s waist, voice pitched low and already thick with arousal, proving that Sebastian wasn’t the only one affected by their week of abstinence. Hearing Chris direct those same words at Dodger has somewhat dampened the effect they used to have on Sebastian, back when they were on a dogless set in what Seb is calling their honeymoon phase, but it still sends a shiver running through him that Chris can surely feel.

“Missed you,” Seb mumbles against Chris’ mouth, biting gently at his bottom lip until Chris opens up for him.

“I only went to the kitchen,” He answers, planting little kisses along the column of Seb’s exposed neck, but they both know that isn’t what Sebastian had meant. With a sigh of relief at finally, _finally_ getting what he wants, Seb tips his throat back further to let Chris sink his teeth into his neck.

Grinding their hips together lazily as the heat between them builds like a wildfire, Seb threads his fingers through Chris’ soft hair as he is ravaged, holding on for dear life as he opens his eyes –

\- only to meet big brown puppy dog eyes staring straight back at him over the back of the couch, as Dodger stands guard in the doorway like a gargoyle.

Chris has his back to Dodger and clearly hasn’t noticed his presence, distracted as he is by Sebastian’s body in his lap, and Seb thinks about simply closing his eyes and ignoring the dog. He’s been waiting for this all week, damn it. Can’t they have a single moment alone? Can a man not get fucked in his own boyfriend’s house?

But the knowledge that he’s right there, watching intently with that unsettling and judgemental gaze… Sebastian just can’t get laid in these conditions.

“Chris,” He says, gasping when the teeth on his neck nip at him playfully and a firm, large hand cups his ass with intent, “Chris, stop!”

To his credit, Chris pulls back like he’s been burnt, immediately tilting Seb’s head down to meet his eye.

“What is it? Are you okay?” He says a little frantically, a hint of panic shaking his voice as he peers at the new love bites on Seb’s neck, checking he hasn’t gone too far and really hurt him.

“It’s fine, I’m – I’m fine,” Seb replies, feeling very stupid all of a sudden, “It’s just -“

His eyes flick back over to the doorway. 

“- he’s watching.”

Whatever Chris has expected him to say, it wasn’t that, and he frowns in confusion, twisting around to look over the back of the couch were Sebastian’s nervous gaze is pointing. When he sees Dodger standing there innocently, Chris lets out a booming laugh, twisting back round to face Sebastian and returning his big hands to his waist as he shakes his head in amusement.

“Oh, just ignore him. He’ll go away,” Chris mumbles distractedly, kissing up and down Sebastian’s neck as if nothing has happened and they can seamlessly return to their earlier momentum.

But they can’t. Dodger isn’t looking away, and he’s not even _blinking._ How can something so cute be so creepy?

So Sebastian remains rigid and unresponsive, wrenching Chris’ hands away from his ass when they slip down to grab at him. No matter how much Chris begs and pleads like a horny teenager on prom night, he’s not getting down and dirty with Dodger in the room. Chris looks up at him pleadingly, pouting in an attempt to get Seb to give in, but Sebastian remains steadfast, arching one eyebrow at Chris pointedly until he caves.

“Okay, okay, you win. We’ll christen the coffee table another day,” He says, securing his hands under Sebastian’s thighs before standing up suddenly. Sebastian lets out an embarrassingly high pitched squeal of panic and clings tightly to Chris’ shoulders as he is suddenly lifted into the air, almost missing Chris’ husky: “Let’s take this to the bedroom, huh?”

He’s carried like he weighs nothing all the way upstairs, and deposited outside the door when Chris becomes too distracted by the teeth scrapping along his throat to get their bedroom door open. Dodger, thankfully, doesn’t seem interested in following them for once.

Once they’re inside, Seb pushes Chris back onto their large bed with a little more force than strictly necessary, leaning down to give him a dirty, lingering kiss before stepping back.

“I’ll be one second. Make yourself… comfortable,” Sebastian drawls with a smirk and suggestive squeeze to Chris’ thigh, before he disappears to the ensuite bathroom attached to their bedroom.

When he’s cleaned up a little, Sebastian pushes the door to their bedroom open and re-enters, practically vibrating with anticipation and pent up tension. He’s been gone for less than a minute – just long enough, he hopes, for Chris to take all of his clothes off. But instead of his very naked, very aroused boyfriend waiting with open arms in their bed, he’s greeted with an entirely different sight.

Chris is snoring softly, dead to the world on their king-sized mattress, with Dodger dozing peacefully against his chest. Sebastian hadn’t even heard Dodger climbing the stairs, let alone climbing into their bed, but it seems their plans for a little adult alone time have been foiled once again. 

It’s so cute Sebastian can barely even bring himself to be angry. He only sighs, defeated and resigned, before tucking the covers over Chris and Dodger’s sleeping forms and climbing in beside them.

They’ll just have to try again tomorrow.

* * *

* * *

* * *

* * *

It’s… one of those days, again. The bad ones. It’s been one of those days for the last few weeks, if he’s being honest.

It’s not any one thing – it never normally is. It’s a culmination. A steady build-up of mistakes and failures, anxieties and fuck ups. It’s another rejection after an audition he thought he nailed because they wanted a ‘bigger name’. It’s a story in a gossip rag speculating that some actress he’s never heard of is Chris’ new flame, and one thousand comments describing how _perfect_ she is for him. It’s reading comments on the internet that he knows he should avoid, that tear him to shreds and twist his every word to paint him as a villain. It’s trying his best and never meeting the impossible standards set for him, never being quite good enough for everyone no matter what he does. It’s the lines that grow every day on his forehead as age takes a hold of him; it’s the roles he’ll never get, now, the wasted potential and the ticking time bomb that is his own body. It’s the way that he feels guilty and ashamed for feeling this low, when he has everything he could possibly want and more, more than most people will ever have in their lives. The cycle of feeling bad for feeling bad sends him spirally down further and further, and every day that he sits alone in an unfamiliar city in a house that is not his own pushes him deeper down into that hole.

He misses his mom, even though she’s only a few hours drive or a phone call away. He misses Chris, even though he’s only been gone for a few weeks.

It’s like he’s trapped in a room with no windows or doors, and every bad thing that happens or dark thought his brain conjures is a burst of water leaking through the walls and ceiling like blood in a horror movie. The drops have been flowing more steadily since Chris went away, but he knows it would be ridiculous to ask him to abandon his work and return to Sebastian because he’s feeling a little low. The thought of being a burden, of Chris potentially leaving him rather than putting up with his bullshit, sends a steady flow of water dripping from the already pouring ceiling.

A few days after Chris leaves to shoot a new TV show, Sebastian is ankles deep in water. It slows him somewhat - the extra energy needed to wade through the viscous liquid makes everything more tiring, and every task seem more difficult. But through his lethargy, he remains capable. It’s only a little water, and he can easily push through it. Dodger sticks a little closer to him than usual, swirling around his ankles as if he can see the water, too.

By the end of the first week of Chris’ absence, the water is up to his waist. He shivers with the cold, trembling under Chris’ biggest and fluffiest sweaters as he clings to Dodger for warmth. The water has made his clothes heavy and his movements sluggish, and he struggles to move at all through the flood. By the weekend, he has stopped leaving the house entirely except to walk Dodger, scared that everyone will be able to see the way it weighs him down.

Halfway through the second week, the water rises to his neck. At night, he stays awake, terrified that if he lets his guard down for a second he will slip under, never to surface again. The energy it takes to keep paddling so his head is above water takes everything out of him and keeps him bed-bound throughout the day, unable to lift his arms to reach his phone or open his heavy eyelids to answer his mounting missed calls and texts. Dodger is the only thing holding his fragmented routine together; a tentative pawing at his arm a few times a day reminds him that they both need to eat every once in a while, and is the only thing that can convince him to leave the safety of his blankets and venture into the wild unknowns of the kitchen. Although the prospect had disgusted him just a few short months ago, he lets Dodger crawl into bed beside him, grateful for his warmth when the water he is submerged in grows freezing in the dark of the night. His gentle breathing reminds Sebastian to continue his own, and his soft snores soothe him enough to try and get what little sleep he can piece together. With Dodger perched at the foot of his bed like a guardian, he feels brief moments of safety that elude him in the daylight hours, even as the water rises.

He always finds a way to drain the flood, eventually – sex, drinking, smoking, throwing himself into his work and travelling and becoming someone else and just… _not thinking about it_. But when he’s this deep underwater, and sinking down into the murky blackness feels easier than struggling to the surface, it’s hard to remember that there was ever a time when he was warm and dry and safe – or that he ever will be again.

Sometimes, the only way to drain the flood is to dive to the very bottom and pull the plug. It always seems to get worse before it gets better.

He hasn’t managed to eat today; the food turning soggy and tasteless in the water that surrounds him before it even enters his mouth. But he has managed to feed Dodger, and he selfishly tries to cling onto the small burst of pride that being functional enough to do that gives him. He waits, swaying slightly on his feet, long enough for Dodger to finish eating, then starts the slow trudge back upstairs and into the relative safety of their bed. But when he sees Dodger lying down in the middle of the living room floor, wading through the flood to get upstairs suddenly feels too hard, and he finds himself crumpling to the floor and lying down beside Dodger before he consciously chooses to do it.

He’s not sure how long he lies there with an arm slung across the dogs warm back – it could be minutes, but from the way the room seems to get steadily darker and colder, it’s probably hours. The places where Dodger’s fur is pressed up against him feel warmer and drier than he has in weeks, but the flood surrounding him doesn’t subside, and his ears ring with the pressure of being so deep under.

Somewhere in the distance, a noise like a car door slamming shut sounds, followed by the metallic rattling of a set of keys. Noise doesn’t carry well underwater, though, and Seb is too deep to worry about anything but the pressure pressing down on him from all sides as he sinks further under.

There’s a shadow in the corner of the room, a broad figure that drops a heavy suitcase carelessly onto the hardwood floor, and moves towards him with unrestrained panic in each step.

“Oh, baby,” The shadow breathes, worry clouding his handsome face as he drops to his knees beside Sebastian. Fingers on his chin tilt his face up until his dark-ringed eyes are looking into clear blue ones, filled with barely concealed concern.

“Feeling bad, huh? It’s one of the bad days?,” He hears Chris ask softly, and he wishes he had the energy to do more than grunt in response. Wishes he could tell him that it’s more than just a bad day, and he shouldn’t waste his breath trying to fix Sebastian. If he dives into the water with Seb, he’s going to need all the breath he can save.

Chris slips his one hand under his waist, and clutches his arm firmly with the other hand, before gently attempting to tug Seb into a sitting position from which he can get him off the cold floorboards and into their warm bed.

To both of their surprise, Dodger won’t allow it. He throws himself over Sebastian’s chest, pinning him down and whining low in his throat as if distressed at the thought of being separated from Seb. When it becomes clear that his dog is not going to allow Chris to take his boyfriend away, Chris removes his hands and holds them up to Dodger in a placating gesture, a bemused smile quirking his lips.

“And here I was thinking you two didn’t get alone, huh?” Chris says in that gentle voice he uses when he knows Seb will flinch at anything stronger, “Seems like you’re joint at the hip, now.”

“We’ve come to an understanding,” Sebastian tells him, voice croaking with disuse. He stopped answering Chris’ calls days ago, and he hasn’t spoken to any of the ghosts that lurk beneath the water’s surface and in the corners of Chris’ house. Opening your mouth underwater is never a good idea, anyway.

Realising the futility of getting them all upstairs, Chris gives in, and lies down with them instead. With a sigh, he settles on the floor behind Dodger, with one long arm slung over both of their waists and the dog pressed between them comfortably. His forehead presses against Sebastian’s own, and the intimacy and affection in that simple movement makes Seb close his eyes to block out the swell of emotion it brings him.

“Sweetheart,” Chris whispers, and when Seb opens his eyes, he sees his lover’s bottom lip trembling with a sadness that makes Sebastian want to slap himself, furious that he has burdened the most positive soul he has ever met with this sorrow, “If it was bad, sweetheart, you should have called me. I would have come running for you. I always will. You don’t have to go through it alone if you’re feeling low.”

He knows this, objectively. But it’s difficult to explain how impossible asking for help is when all his energy is going into paddling, desperately, to keep his head about the rising tides. Besides, the last thing he wants is to drag Chris down into the water with him. He’ll happily drown alone if it means Chris is safe on dry land. Worse still is the nagging voice in the back of his mind that told him that Chris _wouldn’t_ come if he called – the one that he didn’t want to put to the test in case it turned out to be true.

Easier, then, not to call. Better for everyone. He’s a strong swimmer, after all. He can do this alone.

But Dodger had been here. Constantly by his side even when Sebastian snapped at him and pulled the covers over his head, blocking out the world. He’d whined and pawed at his dad’s boyfriend until he’d taken care of both of them. He’d encouraged him to leave the house with pleading eyes and his leash dangling from his mouth. He’d snuggled with him and let Sebastian cry into his fur without judgement when it all got to be too much.

In the morning, when the water has drained enough for Sebastian to get his feet back on the ground, he’ll tell them both that he loves them, and he knows they’re here for him, even if he can’t always ask for what he needs.

For now, he curls up with his boys, presses his face into the soft fur of Dodger’s neck, and lets himself be held.


End file.
